Jets win in OT over Dolphins, induce nausea with fans

A stinker for the ages

All I’m happy about is that it’s over. Over the next few hours, and maybe even tomorrow, you might hear the terms “resilient,” “fight” “character” and some other hyperbole used to associate this New York Jets team with their overtime win over the Dolphins in Miami on Sunday. Coming from a PR man, don’t believe that super-spin sh*t for a second.  The Jets did win Sunday afternoon. They were also disgusting, inept, unwatchable, uninspired, careless and just plain awful. Not to mention, awfully lucky.

My buddy texted me with this simple message after the final whistle: “spent and disgusted.” I think that should sum up the feelings of any real (and realistic) Jets fan. Yes, Gang Green is now 2-1. But this game provided little to get excited about.

We’ll run down our thoughts very quickly to get them out. Realize this is not so much to try to show off anything analytical, it’s more just cathartic. I feel the need to pour it all out on the page. Consider this post the hot shower that attempts to simply remove the grime and dirt away so you can simply feel comfortable in your own skin and continue the day.

1. Far from the Sanchize: Since the Buffalo bonanza, Sanchez has been what Jets fans hoped against hope we would not prove himself to be. It’s what we hope he still is not. But, today, he looked like a below average, bottom third quarterback in this league. No, his receivers weren’t running wild and free. They certainly managed to drop catchable balls, too. Yet, Sanchez didn’t look confident. He look scared, timid and inaccurate. There was little fire. He made many poor decisions. He missed several CAN’T MISS throws that would have gone for major yards if not unquestionable scores. It was altogether uninspiring.

2. Missing Formula: The age-old adage is that teams need to run the ball and stop the run. The Jets were proficient in neither category today. Bend but don’t break, my ass. The front seven is as pliable as a flex-straw, and they don’t look faster. They still look old and tired. The tackling is still shoddy. Even on stops at the line of scrimmage, it seemed Dolphins backs consistently pushed the pile for 4-6 yards at a clip. On the offensive side of the ball, Shonn Greene should be running out of chances. He looks absent a burst and his pop is not popping. Ground-and-pound should be stricken from the Jets lexicon until they’ve proved they deserve to utter the phrase. Bilal Powell ran harder  than anyone and was more effective. He should be rewarded. I wouldn’t be against a start next week.

3. Where’s the Heat? Another season, another complete and utter lack of pass rush. The Jets front group couldn’t get to Tanneyhill and nobody blitzing seemed to succeed much either. Anyone besides Ryan Tanneyhill has that type of time, and the Jets will get shredded like Big Ben showed last week.

4. Can Anyone Play Catch? Today was a good reminder the Jets currently have on NFL receiver on the roster. Holmes also needs to STFU. He’s annoying as hell.

5. Tricky Tebow: Finally, we still have no idea what to do with Tebow. Either play him and use him so he MIGHT be effective in some way…or DON’T. Whatever they’re doing now just feels like…”uh, I don’t know…should we put him in now? maybe we’ll have him pitch it…” There is no game plan. We need to get one. Then have some confidence and stick to it.

Other than that, this was a four hour-plus pile of poop. It smelled. It was difficult to look at. You certainly didn’t want to touch it. And, now that it’s over, the only thing to do is throw it out immediately and hope there’s not another one like this coming (yes, I have a toddler).

I have to rest now…

P.S. The replacement refs are in fact somehow making football difficult to watch.

Filed Under: FootballNFLThe Pro Ranks

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About the Author: Cecilio's Scribe is the founder of The Legend of Cecilio Guante and a generally pessimistic fan of the Mets, Jets, Knicks and Rangers. A fine NYC-based gentlemen who hones his marketing skills as his primary trade by day. Husband, chef, father of a newborn and after-hours blogger by night. Proud alum of the mighty Big Red of Cornell. University. Hot sauce devotee. Staunch protester of the continued wussifcation of American sports. Sometimes I rhyme slow, sometimes I rhyme quick.

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